


dance, dance

by bukkunmoonsin (bukkunkun)



Category: Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, M/M, Nostalgia, Physical Disability, Reminiscing, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:26:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5214458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunmoonsin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’d been years since he danced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dance, dance

**Author's Note:**

> [original post here](http://bukkun-moonsin.tumblr.com/post/131022511898/dance-dance).

“Have you ever danced before?” Aguinaldo asked quietly as he and his Prime Minister made like wallflowers at the  _piging_  someone—who, they didn’t really mind, nor  _cared_ —threw. He swirled brandy in the crystal glass he had, and peered at Mabini, who was thoughtfully staring at his own glass of water.

He peered around them, and leaned in to whisper, “Pole?”

At that Mabini stopped, and looked up at him slowly.

“Miong.”

“You seem distracted.” He commented, concerned. “Is it because I’ve been hiding out here with you? Should I leave?”

“No, it’s fine.” Mabini sighed, and seemed… crestfallen. “I… don’t mind your company.”

“We’re barely talking.” Aguinaldo replied. “Is there something on your mind?”

Mabini looked back at the party, where pairs were dancing something in medium tempo, and there was a wistful look in his eyes. Somehow, the President couldn’t make himself look away from his Prime Minister, from the flush high on his cheeks to the curve of his cheekbones, to the small quirk of his lips in a secret little smile hidden under the neutral placid expression the man always wore.

“Just… nostalgia.” He replied, and Aguinaldo’s eyes traced Mabini’s that watched the dancers move around on the polished wood floor. “… Memories, of a time long lost then.”

Aguinaldo fell silent in realization.

“Do you ever miss being able to walk?”

“As the desert misses the touch of rain.” It was barely a whisper over the muffled din of the party, but Aguinaldo heard it, clear as the ring of the church bells in the afternoon.

His heart sank to his stomach, as the paralytic sighed, and leant back in his seat. He set the glass of water down on the nearest table, and turned back to look at Aguinaldo.

“Ah, but that’s all in the past. I suppose you should go and meet those looking for you, Senyor Presidente.” Mabini said plainly, “We should stop before we get to discussing what could have been.”

Aguinaldo shook his head, and—with some difficulty—lifted the paralytic’s chair slightly. Mabini gaped at him, and struggled to get him to stop, but when it teetered dangerously he was forced to hold still, confused as to what the President was up to now.

Aguinaldo half-dragged, half-carried Mabini’s chair outside into the garden, where there were no one around, not even servants, and behind them the party faded into muted sounds of conversation and music. The moon was full and bright above their heads, and Mabini sighed exasperatedly at Aguinaldo as the man circled around his chair to look at him properly.

“Emilio. What are you up to now?”

“Did you ever want to dance?”

 _That_  got Mabini to stop, and he blinked at Aguinaldo. The man looked at him expectantly, and he swears he could see a dog tail wagging behind him. He sighed, and shook his head fondly.

“Yes.” He admitted. “When I was younger, I learned how to dance a little.”

At that Aguinaldo grinned, pleased. “Did you have any partners to dance with?”

Somehow, Mabini had a feeling Aguinaldo already knew the answer, but he answered anyway.

“No. I couldn’t ask anyone.” He replied, and he was already starting to catch the grin on Aguinaldo’s face. “I practiced with a chair.”

At that, the man across him laughed, not unkindly. Delightedly. Relieved. Smitten.

“Well, if you don’t mind, my dear Apolinario, I want to see how well you practiced with that chair.”

“What?”

Mabini didn’t have enough time to react, not when Aguinaldo suddenly swept him up to rest against his chest, hand in his and stretched outward, the other one supporting him by the waist. Slightly panicked, Mabini grabbed onto Aguinaldo’s shoulder with his free hand, and he very nearly wanted to wipe that goofy grin off the man’s face.

“Let’s dance, Pole.” He cheerfully stated, sounding the very epitome of enthusiasm, and the flush on his face, barely visible in the darkness of the night but dusted with silver of the moonlight above them, spread across his cheeks. “Just you and me, and the stars.”

It was like his heart swelled two sizes.

Mabini let a smile cross his lips, and chuckled as Aguinaldo adjusted his hold on him.

“It’s been ages since I danced, Miong.” He replied, as the man gently guided his feet to stand atop his own. “I can’t guarantee a good time.”

“Trust me, Pole,” he replied, smiling gently— _lovingly_ —and he began to slowly dance, carrying Mabini’s feet with his own. “I’m already having a good time.”

It’d been ages since he danced, and he knew he was terrible at it—

But now, paralysed from the waist down, it was like he was learning all over again. With Aguinaldo’s hand in his and the other on his waist, it felt like a dream come true.

The smile he was given just told him all the more that it wasn’t.

For the first time that night, Mabini never missed walking again.


End file.
